


When a Book Closes

by miilky



Category: Once Upon A Time - Fandom, Once Upon a Time in Wonderland, ouat
Genre: F/M, Freeform, Moving On, wanted to work with their characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:03:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3460220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miilky/pseuds/miilky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...Another one opens, and when it's time to move on, don't wait. Belle doesn't want to look back at another lost ending. Scarlet Beauty/Knavelle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When a Book Closes

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: I wanted to work with Belle's character a bit before the premiere tonight. It was interesting, and I'll probably do Will next time, sometime soon.

" _I could be all of the things you'd ask of me."  
_ -Kyla La Grange "I Could Be"

You came because I asked you to. I should have kept my silence just as you should have declined my offer, but the world was at a nightly rest, unassuming and welcoming to all sorts of romance. And the matter's hard truth was that neither of us wanted to return home alone. So it was that when I awoke my nose started at your pine tree, rum-soaked odor even with bouts of sweaty residue instead of inhaling my bed sheets' jasmine touch, mingled with an added dose of orange lily. Instantly, my mind reassured me it wasn't him on the other side of the bed, and yet, as my eyes reluctantly parted, for the tiniest seconds I saw him. I saw his shape and form, his straggly hair, and for another brief moment my heart fluttered in ways it hadn't in months. It was a terrible experience, but then my vision focused and my body sagged on the mattress. I blinked, and he was gone, leaving you in his shadow.

Your back faced me, and like his, it was easy to outline your figure. You sleep started with the sheets wrapped firmly around you as you slept, but as the night pressed on and as your sleep intensified, the sheets were discarded and clung loosely to your waist. My eyes fled to your undulating backside, plump and smooth, and freckled with spots and unusual birthmark. As they stopped there they resumed their upward climb back to your back, and easily your freckles and moles were pointed, dotted here and there in random spots, the dominate bones protruded naturally. There was an alluring curve to you, a curve that I had never seen in my life before, but it was expected, I had known only one man. Your hair accomplished much untidiness in the brief night, despite its height being low and too close to the skull. At my position I saw the tips zigzag on the surface, and the tiny freckles hidden under the dark fuzz. I wanted to touch you then, looking at your fuzz, as I had touched you during the night. You were different in more ways than one, and those differences I regrettably noted throughout the night. But there was something,  _yes_ , something I felt that I couldn't explain.

You came because I let you, because we opened a door we hadn't meant to unlock. You wanted me to ask just as I wanted you to ask, and in my impatience I pushed forward. We walked home from the library, passing the bar and fire station, and when we came to my apartment, recently purchased and furnishes, you stopped. We hadn't held hands or touched each other, but as we stood outside my apartment door you pulled me aside and let my fall press against the concrete wall. Your fingers, I remember, were roughly gentle upon my lips, and your eyes, though dark in color and even darker in the night, sparkled with an emotion that couldn't be rightly explained. And at the time I didn't want to understand it, I wanted it for myself, and if I could have it, possess it for a little while, then maybe I'd understand it too.  _"Do you want this Belle,"_ I asked as the distance finally started to close between us, your hot breath grazing on my lips,  _"Is it wrong? Is he afraid too?"_ Lust and loneliness be damned; when your lips fell on mind the world we knew tumbled and broke apart, shredded by a volcanic tornado.

You were pulled from a comfortable slumber when my nails scrapped at the bones in your back. It was too tempting, and I was pleased to watch your body shift upwards and twist inwards before turning around fully. Your eyes were red-rimmed but completely dry, and when I reached for them, the back of my hand caressing your smooth cheek you didn't flinch or look away. The look remained, and it was the sad recognition of knowing something was missed and better left gone, but wanting it either way. Your hand reached for my and grasped it tightly, and when you smiled there was nothing to see but the strain and tight muscles around your mouth. A watery glaze smoothed over your eyes, and you gasped lightly, murmured words I didn't understand, then resumed a sleep that was less restful and more pitiful. I didn't want to admit then, and I didn't want it to say it aloud. But I knew, as your eyes tore into mine in the short moment, that you missed her just as much as I missed him.

It was easier to believe we made a mistake. I wanted to believe in my flawed judgment, and I couldn't say I didn't enjoy it, or you. After months of waiting for something an escape the universe provided us an escape, and we sought it hungrily in each other.

And as candidates went, you were the most logical choice. Your weekly visits to the library didn't bring us closer but offered an opportunity neither of us wanted to muse about. Not only was it treacherous for us to envision a future without them but to become different people in their absence was too much for us to endure; the possibilities frightened us. You didn't have to tell me you were afraid. Your fingers trembled over my skin, eager and hesitant to make contact, and your eyes watered with uncertainty. Each kiss and caress was filled with thoughtfulness and sorrow that made me gasp louder than I meant to, and as your head disappeared between my legs, pressing tenderly on my entrance, the ceiling started to spin and my throat tightened and convulsed. Your tongue made me feel, and I was reborn in the cool night, within my bedroom's peeling walls.

Your departure was warmly anticipated, but you continued to surprise me with your resilient presence. Rising from bed first, you were determined to prepare breakfast. You didn't make your reasons known; maybe you were hungry, maybe you wanted to repay me for my kindness. Or you wanted a diversion, and what was more readily available than breakfast? But you didn't want to leave, that much I understood, and quickly you worked with the bread and eggs. I stood back, enthralled by the awkward display. You were curious of the stove, cautiously working the mechanics of this world's appliances. You told me that Robin had helped you adjust…somewhat, at times really, not that you were especially close with him now. "It's complicated," you said when I stepped to your right, and you grinned sheepishly and gestured to the heated stove, "Mind teaching me?"

What this would evolve to, what we were going to become was a mystery to me. Attempts in imagining the potential pathways, both golden and black, were sketchy and vacant, clouded in mist. Seated on the couch I surmised that perhaps were meant to be a moment, a fleeting memory of pleasure to be forgotten in the distant months.

"You going to eat that?" You snatched at my toasted-egg sandwich, and frowned childishly, "Ah, don't be greedy bookworm." I curled away to the arm and chomped on my meal, and reminded myself I deserved much more, much more than what I'd allowed myself to have up to this point. I deserved that sandwich, and I deserved happiness. I deserved…the world if I wanted it. Still seated on the spot, your eyes were lucid and filled with an understanding I hadn't met in my life yet. Your dirtied fingers curled in a half-hearted fist and fell as your lips smacked loudly in my ears. Softly, they descend on my hand resting on the couch, and tightened around it. I didn't like the feel of grease and crumbs, but again I focused on your skin only, and it was smooth and warm.

"You're nice," you laughed hopefully.

"You too." Futures weren't guaranteed in contract, and happiness wasn't eternally assured. Our ending was just as likely to leave us torn and tattered as we were at our beginning, but seated on the sofa together, your hand tightened around mine, and you dared one of those joyful, crooked smiles in my direction. Your eyes were gentle and smooth, and those loud fears that drummed in my chest quieted in the ashes of a former life.

Books often ended predictably. The prince married the princess, the monster was defeated, true love saved the beast and formed a creature of unimaginable beauty, and everyone lived happily ever after. And true those endings never confounded me or bored me in the slightest; it felt that it was how the world was meant to be, written down in those pages. There wasn't a problem in questioning the penmanship, the escape. But it was foolish of me to believe in that. The world wasn't as nearly predictable as that, despite my wishing it was. The prince from chapter three wasn't as charming as he led the young heroine to believe, monsters never truly died, and true love wasn't strong enough to save the beast.

My heart ached at knowing the story was my own, and for all its dangers and mysteries, the unexplored ending was ten times more appealing than what was already known. I saw that in you, did you know? You promised an unfolding, an enduring sense of wonder and constant discovery. We could be anything, wanted to be anything, and was ready to tear apart what we thought we knew to find what was buried underneath. _And why?_ I sought for the answer in your face, just as you searched for it in mine, but the answer was ridiculously simple and didn't demand more time than what was needed. Our clasp tightened, and we resumed our embrace in bed, tattered and tumbling, moans creaked under a springy mattress. Separate dreams combined as one, and we ran together to a place we only knew, but not as of yet.

It came down to a matter of choice, and we chose the unknown.

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: With leaked Belle/Will (scarlet beauty) photos popping up and the premiere this Sunday both spurred a moment of trying something new. Plus, FreyReh made a wonderful edit on her tumblr of them, along with the song idea. The edit is on her tumblr under the 'scarlet beauty' tag. Go there if you haven't already.
> 
> She and Will have something in common: past lovers choosing power over them. We don't know what happened to Anastasia, but Will obviously misses her, if the Red Queen illustration wasn't an indication. It's going to be interesting watching their relationship move forward and what possibilities are out there for them. If there's one thing I've gotten from Once Upon a Time is that your first love isn't necessarily your true or final love, and that moving on is a part of life, scary but hopeful.
> 
> (*): A reference to Belle's song in Beauty and the Beast, "Here's where she meets Prince Charming, but she won't discover that it's him 'till chapter three!"
> 
> All feedback is appreciated. Thank you, and Happy Sunday Viewing!


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